As you near the cloud, albeit cautiously, your feet leaning up on tiptoes so that you are able to touch the mass of darkness, you realise that it is from the grey cloud that the sweet Lyre-music is coming from. As the cloud begins to lower itself down onto your head, the dewdrops engulf your senses, leaving only the sweet melody in your consciousness.
You don’t remember falling asleep- for that is the fluff that fills your head- but you awake in amongst the thick cloud, the twanging sounds of the Lyre continues.
You level your footing, cloud becoming rock-like. Your eyes begin to adjust, if slowly. It seems that, ahead of you, there are two paths woven out of the dark smoke. One seems to head down in a haze of darkness; the other is also shrouded by haze, but you can visualise the monochrome notes that slip through the thin veil. Quavers and crochets, long four-beat-notes too, all seem to make themselves noticed to you. However, although you can tell that the darkness beyond is not altogether friendly, you can see a pool of white light seeping through the warren. There’s no music playing that route, but it seems to show the return of the white clouds.
Which way do you go…?